


Security Risk

by Eligh



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Jealousy, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-11
Updated: 2013-04-11
Packaged: 2017-12-08 03:41:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/756633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eligh/pseuds/Eligh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bond doesn't know why he followed him tonight. He doesn't know a lot of things when it comes to Q.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Security Risk

Bond watched Q leave the club (alone, and the twisted pleasure he felt at that surely shouldn’t be closely examined) and fell into step behind him, half a street back.

And he had to give it to the quartermaster; Q noticed he was being followed after only three blocks and executed a quick manoeuvre that put him out of Bond’s sight in moments. It seemed that the mandatory basic field training for all MI6 employees wasn’t a waste, after all.

But Q was still just a boffin (though there was really no ‘just,’ not when it came to Q) and Bond was, well, _Bond_ , and so he’d caught up again in minutes. Of course, by ‘caught up,’ he actually meant ‘followed Q into an obvious dead-end alley and then had to duck a well-placed pipe, that had he been a fraction slower, would have smashed him directly in the face.’

“Q!” he shouted, and the pipe dropped with a clatter.

“What—Bond? Dammit, what the hell are you—were you following me?” Q snapped, furious colour high on his cheeks. Snow whirled lazily around them, a counterpoint to the brisk pace Bond’s heart was setting. He could feel the bones in Q’s wrist shifting under his grip (when had he grabbed his wrist?) and abruptly pulled his hand away, breathing hard.

“You were—”

“What, I was _what_ , Bond?” Q shook his head and walked away, out of the alley and onto the street proper, not even letting Bond try to explain his behaviour. He was obviously furious, and Bond felt a sudden rush of reciprocal anger.

“You shouldn’t have been in that club,” he growled out, jogging slightly to catch up.

Understanding dawned on Q’s face. “I was _trying_ to get _laid_ ,” he explained as if to a child, stopping short on the sidewalk and crossing his arms to face Bond. “Surely you understand the mechanisms behind such a desire?” Bond glared, and Q rolled his eyes.

“You shouldn’t be so blasé about security—”

“Security!?” Q raised both hands and gestured to all of Bond, oblivious to the stares of passing pedestrians. “I will not receive a lecture from _you_ of all people regarding the questionable security of bedding _anyone_ , Bond.” He narrowed his eyes and took a step forward, nearly nose to nose with the 00. “Why were you following me.” It was not a question.

“Intel has gathered that you’ve been engaging in high-risk activity,” Bond breathed, the cloud of his breath washing vaporous over Q’s narrow face. “You need to stop.”

Q cocked his head. “And so they’ve sent James. Bond. The paragon of moral virtue, to what, rein me in?” He slid closer, a poised (and dangerous—one would not be employed by MI6 without being dangerous, and Bond had read his file) predator, scenting after his prey.

Bond had not felt like prey in a very long time—not since Scotland and—better not to think about this, not right now.

When Q spoke again, Bond could feel the heat of his breath across his lips. “No,” Q said. “No, I don’t think they sent you. I think you came on your own.” Large eyes surveyed him closely over the rim of thick glasses, and Q smirked, leaned even closer, his lips barely brushing Bond’s cheek as he said, “I think you needed to see it to believe it. Needed to see me suck anonymous cock in a backroom sex club—”

“Enough,” Bond growled, too sharp for the moment, but Q stepped back, smirking. He adjusted his parka, tugging sharply on the hem, and favoured Bond with one last assessing look.

“Yes, Bond. I believe it is enough.”

Bond tightened his fingers into fists. “You will not go there again.” The look this statement got him was acerbic, but after a moment it shifted closer to something resembling pity. Bond did not like either.

Q ran his tongue over his teeth. “Alright.” Another of those penetrating gazes delivered over the rim of black glasses. “Because it poses a security risk.”

Bond felt oddly off-kilter, but nodded regardless. “Yes.”

 

 

When Bond found himself on assignment in Bolivia few weeks later, he did not closely examine his choice of bed partners. The fact that the young man had a nest of curling, messy black hair and dark-rimmed glasses perched on his nose meant nothing.

Nothing.


End file.
